The initial enthusiasm of Russians about the freedom that came with perestroika, and with it the need to investigate a past that has been suppressed for many years, seems to be well and truly gone. For many, the shock of the Red Empire collapsing was too great. What should they do with this newly gained freedom, when chaos and mafia practices were taking over? After the turbulent 1990s, when many Russians were living in poverty, and uncertainty about the future, there is now a need for law and order. Older people want to look back on a past they can be proud of, and the young want to look forward to a future they can believe in.
The Red Soul shows a world full of contradictions. In a mosaic of frank and intimate portraits of ordinary Russians both young and old, pride alternates with pain and shame. Nostalgic stories about how the country flourished under the Communist ideal contrast sharply with painful memories of hunger, violence and betrayal and a deep-seated fear on the part of citizens to show their Motherland in an unfavourable light.
Struggles with the past are set against the heroic image of a country full of victors that the State wants to propagate. More than once, it turns out, these paradoxical views can be found in one and the same person. From this complex perspective, rather than taking a moral stance, Jessica Gorter tries to find the connections between fear and cruelties on the one hand and pride and ideals on the other. Slowly a picture emerges of people in a confused country where the main message for the young to hold on to seems to be that pride is more important than memory.